Blazing Hotter (Love Under Fire Book 2) (17 page)

Now fully dressed and upright in his wheelchair, Frankie waved Cassie to his side, patting the bed next to him. “Come sit down. I’m sure Detective Rogers will tell us everything she can.”

Frankie and Rogers weren’t the ones at risk, but Cassie knew she couldn’t take her fears out on the people trying to help her. Clenching and unclenching her hands in succession, she crossed the room and sat on the bed as requested, struggling to take in deep, even breaths. Not certain she wanted to know the answer to her questions, she looked back at the detective. “Did another woman die in my place last night?”

Frankie made a low noise of disapproval in the back of his throat. “None of this is your fault.”

Not looking at him, she kept her eyes squarely on Rogers, challenging the other woman, demanding the truth.

Rogers broke first, looking away. “Another body was found at the east end of Kendall Park an hour ago.”

“And my doorstep?” she demanded. “Did he leave more roses?”

Blowing out a loud breath, Rogers grabbed her cell from her front pocket. “Not on your doorstep.” Flipping through something on the phone, she approached Cassie, holding the device out to her.

Several red roses strewn across dark green grass filled the screen. The words formed by the stems were all the proof she needed that the killer was still after her. Hands trembling, Cassie passed the phone to Frankie.

“Where are you, whore?” he read aloud, before shaking his head and handing the phone back to Rogers. “Cassie, this isn’t your fault. The killer is the only one responsible for these deaths.”

“Sure,” she agreed, all the fight flowing out of her as tears stung the backs of her eyes. “But the cops were supposed to stop him. They can’t help me or any of these other women.” She slipped her hand into Frankie’s, blinking hard as she refused to let fear overcome her. “I’m on my own, I guess.”

Frankie lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. “You’ll never be alone. You have me.”

“Talk about being a drama queen.” Rogers shook her head. “We aren’t giving up, but you need to stay here for a while longer until we catch this creep. He doesn’t know where you’re hiding or he would have come here last night. Just sit tight and let us handle it.”

Sit tight. Easy enough for Rogers to say, but the longer Cassie was trapped with Frankie, the harder it would be to convince herself she didn’t have real feelings for him.

Beyond the complications of her personal life, sitting tight meant the killer would continue taking out other innocent women in his seemingly mindless pursuit of her.

“Are you going to follow up with the florist?” Cassie asked. “I’m wondering why she thought the woman who ordered the flowers was a stripper. Maybe she frequents the clubs and actually knows, but didn’t want to say that to me. I think it would be worthwhile to double check.”

“A stripper...” Rogers took up pacing the room where Cassie had left off. “I find that kind of hard to believe. These killings are brutal with a whole lot of rage behind them. The faces of the girls are hardly recognizable. I’m sure dancers have to be strong, but that seems like a stretch.”

Cassie looked at Frankie as Rogers continued muttering under her breath, apparently trying to work through the problem presented by a murderous exotic dancer. Lack of sleep must be making the task more difficult, as Cassie was sure the detective would have never talked about the state of the victims’ bodies in front of them if she were running on all cylinders.

Cassie turned to Frankie. “I don’t think that is a big stretch. It’s what we thought before.”

He nodded and then cleared his throat to drawn Rogers’s attention back to them. “Excuse me, Detective, but I believe Cassie has a point. It’s at least a lead, and what else do you have to go on since he somehow figured out Cassie wasn’t home last night? At this point, the killer has put out a lot of flowers. That last message alone must have taken several dozen.”

“Three,” Rogers agreed. “Three dozen red roses last night, plus the four dozen roses given as gifts to the intended victims.”

“They have to be coming from somewhere,” Cassie said, struggling to keep her voice even and reasonable. “A local florist might keep tabs on so many requests for red roses. You should talk to them all, but also ask Tammy at The Flower Shoppe again about who ordered that first bouquet.”

“I’ll run it by my boss,” Rogers finally agreed. “You guys stay here. I’ll let you know as soon as I have any news to report. Whether it’s a dancer or someone with a grudge against Cassie at work, we’ll figure it out. We’ll keep you safe. I’m going to go now. I need a few hours of sleep before our next briefing. I’ll be in touch.”

Without a backward glance, Rogers marched to the door, even forgetting to remind Cassie to lock it behind her this time.

Not that she needed the reminder. After locking it up tight, she returned to the bed, reclaiming Frankie’s hand as she sat down. “Do you think they’ll really follow up with Tammy? Detective Rogers didn’t seem convinced it would lead anywhere.”

“Even if a dancer is who bought the flowers, we said in the beginning she might have been forced into buying them,” he reminded her.

“Exactly,” Cassie agreed. “Or it might be a dancer murdering people. I know Rogers is likely going off murder statistics, and even I’ve been thinking of the killer in terms of a man, but there’s no reason it couldn’t be a woman. I don’t know what I did to piss this person off, but a woman can build up rage just as much as a man.”

“So what are you getting at?” Frankie asked the question but didn’t look particularly curious. He probably knew the answer.

“We can’t wait for Rogers to have her briefing and risk them blowing this lead off. I want to talk to Tammy and then hit the clubs.”

Frankie sighed. “And I thought we could stay in the room all day and have sex.”

Knowing she shouldn’t respond, Cassie couldn’t help but wink. “If you help me do this now, I might be persuaded to give you your wish later.”

T
hayne and Laura stood inside the hotel room, clearly unhappy. Not that Frankie could blame them.

“It’s a bad idea,” Laura said for the fourth time. “If a killer’s after you, you need to stay here like the cops told you.”

Frankie was unsurprised when Cassie shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said. “If the cops aren’t going to get answers, I have to do it myself. Just hand over the wig and other supplies you brought. I’ll be fine. Frankie’s coming along to keep me safe.”

Laura shoved the plastic sack Cassie had requested at her, clearly unhappy. She glanced up at Thayne, seeming to appeal to him to do something.

Thayne’s huge mass took up too much of the room as he moved to the center of it, but even that didn’t appear to intimidate Cassie. The woman knew what she wanted.

“How about this?” Thayne said slowly, seeming to work through a plan as he spoke. “Frankie and I will ask the florist to identify the dancer. It’s safer for us to go. With the fight you guys had, the killer won’t expect you to be with him so probably isn’t watching him anymore. You and Laura stay here, and we’ll call as soon as we find out anything.”

Frankie winced, waiting for Cassie to explode at Thayne’s suggestion. The woman was damn stubborn once she got a thought in her head. She wanted to bring this killer down herself, to stop him or her from killing other women in her place.

To his surprise, Cassie flopped into one of the chairs near the table, pouting but not arguing. “Will you let me question the woman at the club with you? We can’t go until nighttime to do that and it’ll be busy. No one will notice me with the wig.”

It was the only way they would get her to cooperate. Frankie nodded once at Thayne. “It’s a fair compromise. We can do the legwork during the day, and let Cassie help when it’s dark out and she’s less likely to be spotted.”

“Will these places be open on a Sunday?” Thayne asked. “We might have to wait until tomorrow.”

Cassie hopped up, grabbing a phone book from the room’s desk and flipping through the pages. “I’ll call and find out.”

“I know the clubs are open,” Frankie admitted.

Cassie looked up from the book and snorted, shaking her head. “Of course, you know that. I’ll call the florist.”

Thayne pressed his lips tightly together as though he tried not to laugh when Laura exchanged a long glance with him. He winked at his fiancée and mouthed, “Lover’s quarrel.”

Frankie should have known his closest friend would figure out right away that he and Cassie had slept together. And Cassie had mentioned Laura and she were close, so Laura had probably spotted it right away too.

“Listen, guys,” Laura said, crossing the room to sit at the remaining chair near the small table. “We have something to talk to the two of you about. I didn’t want to add more stress, but maybe with everything going on now is actually a good time to bring it up.”

Cassie stopped perusing the phone book. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Laura hurried to assure them. “But how would you feel about flying to Hawaii with Thayne and me Wednesday?”

“Hawaii?” Frankie looked at Thayne, grinning. “Hawaii! You found a beach my chair can travel on. That’s excellent.”

“Even better than that,” Thayne said, his smile bigger than anything Frankie had ever seen on his friend’s face. The man was excited to finally marry his love. “There’s an island that’s privately owned near Hawaii’s Big Island called McCallister’s Paradise. Apparently they have a restaurant built right on the water, even extending out into the ocean. There’s a wheelchair ramp and the floors are wooden. Paved roads lead from the bungalows we rented to the restaurant. There won’t be any problems with your chair. The person Laura talked to said we could have the tables closest to the water moved out of the way and perform the ceremony there, right on the water. They even have someone to officiate the wedding.”

Frankie couldn’t help but be happy. They’d found a way to have Laura’s dream wedding without Frankie’s wheelchair presenting a problem. With the functions of his new chair allowing him to be upright, he could stand next to Thayne like a real best man and not some invalid who would need to be pushed down the aisle. “How much will this cost me?” That was always a concern but he would find the money.

“Nothing at all!” Laura clapped her hands, a smile to match Thayne’s making her plump face radiantly beautiful. “It’s just going to be the four of us, and I’m using part of the reward money Mr. Kendall gave me for catching the arsonist to pay for it.”

“Only the four of us?” Cassie shook her head. “What about your parents and sister? Wasn’t she going to be your matron of honor?”

“About that...” Laura shrugged. “You feel like being my maid of honor? I’ll be giving you a five-day vacation as payment for the job.”

“You’d never have to pay me,” Cassie protested. “I’m honored, but I don’t understand. What happened with your sister?”

“Nothing happened. Her husband took a job in Africa and they’re leaving soon. Mom and Dad are going with her, of course, to stay with the grandchildren. I was upset at first, but I think this will be better. Just a small group on an island paradise.” Laura smiled, her blue eyes pleading for Cassie to agree. “We’ll have a blast, and it will get you out of this town until they catch the killer.”

Cassie’s face seemed to fall in on itself and the excitement left her gaze. “How can I leave with a killer taking out someone else every night he doesn’t get to me?”

Her concern for other people made her that much more of his ideal woman, but Frankie would be damned if he’d let her stay in this town right now when they had other options.

“We’ll think of something,” he promised. “If it is someone at your job like we suspect, we can go in Tuesday evening and tell them you’re leaving the country for a while.”

She nodded. “That could work. Gossip spreads fast around that hospital and rehab center. Before long, everyone in both facilities would know I’m gone. Even if the killer isn’t someone who works with me, they would probably hear about it if they’re searching for me there.”

“Why wait to spread the word?” Laura asked. “You and I should do that while the boys check out The Flower Shoppe.”

“No.” Frankie pushed the button on his wheelchair, riding toward Cassie. “The same reasons you shouldn’t go to the florist with us hold for you not going to the rehab center. If you leave this room during daylight, there’s a chance the killer will spot you.”

Thayne nodded his agreement. “I’m not letting my fiancée put herself at risk any more than I want you hurt, Cassie. You girls stay here. Call your boss and report your vacation that way.”

Clearly unhappy if her glare was any indication, Cassie continued flipping through the pages of the phone book, not looking at either man. “Let’s get this show on the road. We don’t have a lot of time to find Rogers a lead before we leave.”

***

C
assie dialed the number to her boss’s cell phone, glad she somehow remembered it without the program on her phone. Stan didn’t work weekends, not that the man worked a whole lot during the week anyway.

“Hello?”

“Stan? This is Cassie Flick.”

“Hey, Cass. I didn’t recognize the number,” Stan said. “How are things going? I don’t know why you needed Friday off, but I’ve been worried about you all weekend.”

Even though she highly doubted Stan was the killer, Cassie was glad Laura had cautioned her against using the hotel room’s phone to call and request the time off and let Cassie use her cell phone instead. With caller ID on everyone’s cells these days, it would have told him where she was. She needed to keep her location a secret so they could safely leave town. That would be difficult if Stan knew where she was, what with the inclination her boss had to gossip with the nursing staff at the rehab center.

“I’m actually not okay,” she said. Quickly launching into a short explanation of the situation with the murdered victims and the threats against her—the edited version Thayne, Frankie, and Laura agreed she should tell—Cassie then told her boss that she was leaving the country for a week or perhaps a bit longer. “I need to get out of town until the cops figure this out. I’m scared, Stan.”